8 THE MISTRESS OF ISLAN

Sir Ristridin stood facing Lady Isadoro in her Round Chamber and thought to himself that she was most definitely a worthy mistress of Islan.

She was not wearing the grey clothes of mourning, as was usually the custom, but a rich green gown with gleaming folds. Her beauty was still striking, although she looked pale and tired. A short time ago he had seen a different side of her: at the siege on the battlements, as she had rallied the castle residents after her father’s death. He had watched her tending the wounded, speaking to them with kind words. He had heard her issue orders, which were obeyed immediately, and he knew everyone who lived at Islan had already accepted her as their mistress. She would only officially become its mistress, though, after King Dagonaut had given his permission. Ristridin was planning to ask him to do so; the Lord of Islan had paid for his guilt with his life and no one was better suited than his daughter to follow him. The king would soon be at Islan – he had left the capital and set out for the Wild Wood.

“You must receive him, Sir Ristridin,” said Isadoro. “I do not dare to approach the king.”

“And yet you must, my lady,” said Ristridin, “and welcome him as befits the mistress of a castle.”

“The mistress of a castle?” she repeated. “I have no other home than this, and I would not know where to go otherwise. Yet I feel that I must leave this place, retreat and hide. But where? In the Wild Wood perhaps?” She smiled, but without a trace of happiness.

“Your place is here, my lady,” said Ristridin. “You are the Lady of Islan, as you have already proven. King Dagonaut is sure to agree with me. He will not remain here long, and neither will I…”

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

“Yes, there is nothing left for me to do here,” replied Ristridin. “And should you need any help, there are many knights here now, in their tents on the plain. I must go; the war is not yet won.”

Isadoro turned away; she glanced at her father’s chair and laid her hand on her harp for a moment. “Ah,” she said, with her back to him, “I understand that you dislike this place. It must still seem like a prison to you. I am already most grateful to you for coming to our aid.”

As Ristridin looked at the lady, so proud and so sad, he felt great tenderness for her.

“Isadoro…” he said, “Lady Isadoro, I came to help because Eviellan was threatening the Kingdom of Dagonaut. But I entered this castle of my own free will. I am leaving because I have obligations elsewhere. The danger here has receded, believe me!”

The lady turned to him again and said in a trembling voice, “I wish it were not so! As long as there was danger and the battle was still being fought, I could remain strong and I did not have to think. Now I miss my father – although perhaps I should be glad that he died as a brave man. But I loved him and I helped him, even when he was in league with Eviellan! I hate this castle; all of its rooms seem empty and my footsteps echo on the stairs. Sometimes I wish I were a warrior, so that I could march with an army, into the Wild Wood. But I could head into the forest anyway,” she added in a whisper, half to herself. “And then go astray and disappear, as I deserve…”

Ristridin walked over to her and took her by the shoulders.

“Isadoro,” he said in a grave tone, “you must not talk like that! You may not run and you cannot go astray. You have one task to perform, and one task alone: to remain here as the noble and valiant Lady of Islan. You will know sorrow, but you must not torture yourself with self-reproach. Be from now on the guardian of Islan, the only stronghold beside the Wild Wood. And if I can help you, I am always ready and willing to do so.”

She lifted her face to look at him and smiled through her tears. He let go of her and took a step back.

Isadoro wiped her eyes. “You have already done enough for me,” she said. “I thank you and I shall never forget you. But now, please, leave me on my own.”

Silently, Ristridin did as she requested. And he had to admit to himself that he was glad to leave her company. The Lady of Islan threatened to rob him of his peace of mind. And that, he thought, was far too foolish for a man of his age.

 

“At my age it is too late to begin another life,” said Red Quibo. “I’ll never get used to drinking water, or looking at a king, even from a distance, or being surrounded by knights who make me run when I would rather rest.” He glanced up from the silver horn he was polishing and gave Ristridin a gloomy look.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Quibo,” said Ristridin. “Even in your own village you would have found no peace. They are also being plagued by the enemies who are hiding out in the Unholy Hills.”

“It is so close!” muttered Quibo. “My beloved village, my home and my refuge, the spot where my cradle stood, the place where I lived… and I am not even allowed to visit.”

“Perhaps you are needed more elsewhere,” said Ristridin. “Now stop that polishing and go and pack.”

“Off on another journey… Well, enjoy the ride!” Quibo grumbled. “Why are you leaving Islan and its peaceful plain? Are you abandoning the lady who is most probably the kindest – and indisputably the most beautiful – woman in the Kingdom of Dagonaut? I thought a knight was supposed to serve ladies, protect them, love them…”

“Go and pack!” growled Ristridin.

“I’m already doing so!” protested Quibo. “Here is your horn, my lord. Should I pack for myself as well?”

“What do you think? Of course!” said Ristridin. He stood up and paced the room, his brow furrowed.

His squire set to work in silence. But after a while he said, “Sir Ristridin… we have to go into the forest, I know, but do you also want to go into those… hateful hills?”

He faltered briefly as Ristridin stopped and looked sternly at him. Then, timidly, he continued, “I don’t know the way from here, my lord! If I can find the way, and I’m not saying I can, then it’s only from the tourney field to the east… to that gloomy vale, which you’ve already made me describe to you a dozen times.”

“We’re going along the Black River back to the Tarnburg,” said Ristridin. “The tourney field is near there. That’s all I can say for now.”

“When are we leaving?” asked Quibo.

“Today,” replied Ristridin. “I have spoken to the king; there is no reason now to delay my departure. So say farewell, Quibo, to Islan.”

“Farewell,” sighed Quibo, looking around the room. “It’s so very beautiful here. Aren’t you going to miss this?”

“I have never of my own free will stayed in one place for any length of time,” said Ristridin. “I am a knight-errant, with no castle that I call home.”

“And do you always wish to wander restlessly?” asked Quibo. “Don’t you miss home, hearth and… heart?”

Ristridin snorted. “I am not a young man,” he said, “and I cannot change now. Travelling, wandering, that is my destiny, and that is what I have always wanted.”

“A life of loneliness, all on my own…” began Quibo.

“Now, please, will you just hold your tongue?” said Ristridin. But it was not long before the same words sounded in his ears once again, as he said farewell to Lady Isadoro.

“You have shown me the way, Sir Ristridin,” she said. “King Dagonaut has made me Lady of Islan and charged me with righting my wrongs through my actions here. I shall try to be brave and noble, and to govern my lands justly. An honourable life, but a life of loneliness.”

“My dear lady,” said Ristridin, and he could not help but smile, “you are young and you are sad, and I understand why you should speak that way. But be assured that you will not feel lonely for long or remain alone.” He thought about the knights whose tents were pitched on the plain, and about other knights he knew. There would surely be many gentlemen who, to use Red Quibo’s words, would wish to serve her, protect her, and love her.

But Isadoro said, “Even surrounded by many people, one can feel alone – particularly when the person one loves is not there.”

“Your father…” Ristridin began gently.

“I am not speaking only about my father,” she said quietly, and she blushed. “Ah,” she continued in a louder voice, “but it matters little now! Farewell, Sir Ristridin, you have already been too kind to me. Oh, I feel guilty, so guilty… I knew what was in the wood and I warned no one… You were imprisoned and still I allowed others to head into danger…”

“Are you thinking of Sir Tiuri?” said Ristridin.

“Yes, him, too… Please send word to me when he returns from his mission! But I am also thinking of others…”

Is she in love with the young Tiuri? thought Ristridin. But he seems to have forgotten her for Rafox’s daughter. And he said, “There are many knights in the Kingdom of Dagonaut, young, valiant…”

“Oh, do not speak of them,” she said with a shudder. “I know that there is a war. And you… you are the finest of them all.”

“Oh, I feel that I’ve had my day,” said Ristridin. He spoke lightly, although he did not feel that way. “Do not think too much about what has been, Isadoro. Look to the future. One day you will meet a knight whom you truly will find the finest knight of all.”

“I have already met that knight,” whispered the young lady.

“And who is it?” asked Ristridin after a moment’s pause. “Tiuri?”

She shook her head and seemed to want to say something, but remained silent. Then she said quickly, “I do not wish to hold you up any longer, Ristridin. The wood is waiting for you. I would like to bid you farewell with the words on the old signpost: ‘Tread this path in peace and may you reach your goal.’ Do you know who translated those words for me? The Lord of the Tarnburg himself, the Black Knight with the Red Shield. Once I thought he was the first among all knights, even though I feared him. Now I no longer think that, but he is still often in my thoughts. He is so close by, in the Unholy Hills…” She looked at him. “I have promised myself I will speak only the truth from now on,” she said, “and so I say this to you: I shall be Lady of Islan and no knight will be permitted to wear my colours.”

“Do not speak that way,” said Ristridin. “You cannot keep such a promise.”

“Fine, then you shall be the only one! You are already wearing my colour, Ristridin, even though it is perhaps without your knowledge and intention.”

“How is that?” said Ristridin.

“Yellow and brown are the colours of Islan, but green is my own colour – just as it is the colour of your cloak and of the symbol on your shield.”

Ristridin shook his head. “Let your knight be a younger man,” he said. “Although I will always be at your service should you request it of me.”

Isadoro shook back her hair and said proudly, “I shall not ask your help again, Sir Ristridin. I am certain I shall hear of your deeds – and then I shall ask if you are still wearing my colour. If not, then I will know I will not see you again. But if you are, then perhaps the message will reach you that the Lady of Islan has invited you to her castle. But that will not happen before this war is over and won.” Then she held out her hand to him and said once again, “Farewell.”

Ristridin would have liked to give her a goodbye kiss, but he did not do so. He just said kindly, “Farewell,” and soon he rode away at full tilt.

Red Quibo, who was following him, kept falling behind. He glanced back at the castle several times. “Will we ever see it again?” he asked out loud, when he had finally caught up with his master.

“I do not know,” said Ristridin. “I am a knight-errant and my paths are uncertain.” But to himself he thought, Will I continue to wear green? Yes, of course – I have always done so and the symbol on my shield is older than Isadoro, older even than myself. It would make no sense to change it. Besides… she must not think I am not always ready to help her.”

“My paths are uncertain,” muttered Quibo beside him. “True words! But wherever they lead, there is always misery and anger… Ah, woe is me… To the Tarnburg we go!”